


Scatter the Grace in Your Eyes

by afterandalasia



Category: Aladdin (1992), Brave (2012)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Body Worship, Deity Jasmine (Disney), Dom Jasmine (Disney), F/F, Lesbian Merida (Disney), Lesbian Sex, Loss of Virginity, Minor Cat of Cardonagh/Merida (Disney), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Lessons, Sub Merida (Disney), Virgin Sacrifice, Virgin Sacrifice Merida (Disney), facesitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: Selected as sacrifice to the Goddess who threatens and protects their city in equal measure, Merida does not know exactly what to expect when she enters the deep caves - she knows only that no young woman who has entered has ever come out alive.She finds the goddess: powerful, beautiful, and offering her a choice. Pass silently beyond, to a peaceful afterlife, or accept passage into the Goddess's own realm where the young women who have chosen her path have freedom over their bodies, their time, and their sexualities.For Merida, it is no choice at all.
Relationships: Jasmine/Merida (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Scatter the Grace in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the works of Sappho
> 
> Technically inspired by the Kinktober 2019 prompt for Day One, “Facesitting” but, uh, it sat in my drafts for ages and then went in rather another direction.
> 
>  **CONTENT NOTES:** character death, consent issues. Character death is because Merida is a _sacrifice_ , but death is not explicitly onscreen, not painful, and happy afterlife is incoming. Consent issues is because this is something adjacent to a fuck-or-die situation (it's more 'fuck your way into sexy lesbian heaven, or go peacefully into normal heaven') but at the same time it is... very enthusiastically consensual for the circumstances. 
> 
> As I ended up phrasing it to some fandom friends, "It's like, wait, I thought I was being sent to a painful ritual death, instead I get ritually fucked and then go to sexy lesbian heaven? KA-CHING."

It might have taken them a few attempts, but they’d eventually managed to take all of her weapons away.

Merida scowled, and tried again to get her hands out of their bonds. She could feel the drafts beneath the deep red tunic that she wore, embroidered at the hem, no underwear beneath to keep the air out. Because there was a good chance the Goddess to whom she was about to be sacrificed would kill her anyway, so why bother with more layers than would be needed? It had been hard enough for three maidservants to wrestle Merida into the tunic and do up the tiny pearl buttons on the shoulders, to wrap her stola around her to at least somewhat hide her bound hands, to tuck her headscarf into her hair without the use of pins.

Her mother had not been there. Merida would like to think that it was because she did not want to see her daughter, the only unmarried female of noble birth of the right age, the only candidate for the sacrifice, sent to her doom.

But it still would have been nice if her mother had said it.

Instead, four guards escorted her to the great stone gates, and they waited in the chilly breeze for midnight to come. Merida considered telling the guards what she thought of this, of them, but in the depths of her mind had to sullenly admit that they had no more choice in this than she did.

No, it was this Goddess, this one who demanded the sacrifice of a maiden every three years, who was to blame.

Without warning, the doors swung open, the sound of stone-on-stone making the hairs on the back of Merida’s arms stand on end. She gritted her teeth and glared at them, willing them to close again, but of course they did not.

One of the legionnaires took hold of her upper arm, but she shook him off and stepped towards the waiting door herself.

“I know where I’m going,” she said. “I don’t need an escort.” At a flicker of pity on his eyes, she took the opportunity to raise her wrists to him. “Will you at least untie me?”

There was nobody alive now who remembered when the Goddess had first appeared to them, but they all knew the story. That her power alone restrained the volcano which had made the land so rich but could destroy it again in a heartbeat. Her price: worship, and a maiden once every three years. The women entered the doors and were never seen again.

The legionnaire paused, then drew his knife and cut the rope free. It at least made Merida feel a little better, even if there was nothing she could do.

She had already said her goodbyes. Her father had cried. Her brothers had been confused. Her mother’s eyes had glittered with tears, but she had held it together better than any of the others. The fury that Merida had voiced at first hadn’t vanished. It had just folded inside herself.

Without another word, she turned and walked through the stone doors, her head held high. Warm air surrounded her, and as soon as she crossed the threshold she could hear the doors scraping behind her again.

And she was alone, in the lair of the Goddess.

Only when she had come to a decision had Merida been able to fold her anger away. She removed her stola and calmly wrapped it around one fist, measured a reasonable length, then wrapped it around the other as well. They might have taken her weapons, but they had not taken her fight.

She began to make her way along the corridor. It curved to the right, then downwards, lit by wooden torches that burned brightly but did not seem to produce any soot or smoke. Merida felt her heart pounding in her chest, but it felt like excitement as much as fear as she saw another, sharper turn, and hurried towards it.

Tightening her hands in her stola, she reached the doorway, and only then did her feet betray her as she almost stumbled in place.

“ **Who answers my summons?** ”

Strange, she had never wondered what a Goddess might look like. The corridor ended abruptly with a doorway to a round cavern, the walls draped with red and golden fabrics that glowed the light of enormous bonfires. Piles of gold, of jewels, of carved wood and metal, filled the room like the tomb of an emperor and more, but all of it was nothing compared to the throne.

An enormous golden throne dominated the far end of the room, wreathed in smoke and glimmering. The figure on it had to be… forty… fifty feet tall, dressed in blood red and hanging with gold, a veil across her face with only a gleam of eyes beyond. Black hair tumbled to her waist, shining, and her skin seemed also to glow. Her hands rested on the arms of the throne, stance powerful and sure as she looked down.

Merida swallowed.

“ **Who answers my summons?** ” the Goddess asked again. Her voice was melodious, but so loud that it seemed to burr in Merida’s chest, thunderous even in the large, domed room.

Steeling herself against the fear that threatened to take her, Merida planted her feet and raised her chin. “I am Merida, daughter of Elinor.” She had always taken her mother’s name, defiantly. “I come as sacrifice to… your grace.”

How did one address a Goddess? They had never bothered to tell her, most likely assuming she would be killed immediately.

She saw the shift of light as the Goddess blinked. “ **Hmm.** ”

The Goddess rose to her feet, huge before her, and Merida clenched her teeth and her fists. It would do nothing, of course; never mind the power of a Goddess, the size of her alone would be enough to see Merida dead at a blow. But then the Goddess raised her hands, and with a flash of light and a smell like fire she _shrank_. Merida’s eyes swam, world seemingly to lurch, and then the Goddess stepped forwards and stood _before_ her, barely more than a passus away.

“ **You are a bold one** ,” the Goddess said.

Merida kept her chin raised, eyes firm. Her heart was thundering in her chest as the Goddess reached up to push back her veil and reveal her face.

Her beautiful face.

It was a statement as simple as the sun: the Goddess was beautiful. Her eyes were dark and bottomless, nose strong, lips full and subtly curved; she regarded Merida with something strangely close to _interest_. Not the anger of men who hated her spirit or the disdain of women who thought themselves better than her, not the pity she had seen in the eyes of those who had watched her be prepared for her sacrifice.

The Goddess raised her hand, ran a thumb across Merida’s left cheek, and looked at it curiously. “ **You do not weep, or cower** ,” she said, curiosity in her voice. “ **Are you not afraid of me**?”

She raised her eyes, looking into Merida’s once again. Merida’s stomach felt liquid, her heart racing, but she stood still with her stole wrapped around her hands. “I am afraid, your grace,” she said. “But I did not think it would make me look like much of a sacrifice for you.”

The Goddess cocked her head. “ **And what did you think I did with you young maidens**?”

Merida swallowed, throat still dry. “It didn’t matter before. Why should it matter now? I won’t be returning.”

“ **No** ,” the Goddess conceded, “ **you won’t**.”

Merida did not have time to process the words before lips met hers. She gasped, but then warmth rushed through her, feeling like the sun on her skin and the thrill of riding all wrapped up together. She had wondered what it would be like to be kissed, had sometimes had her lips all but ache from the yearning for it. Sequestered and walled, the thought of marriage to some suitable old man had repulsed her, but had never been enough to stop her from wanting to be touched, to be held, to _want_ someone.

A moan slipped from her lips, and she felt the Goddess’s warm hand cup her chin before sliding, like silk, down the line of her throat. Again and again the Goddess kissed her, drawing whimpers from her lips as golden hands slid down to brush her shoulders, her upper arms, tingling-soft and leaving Merida’s head spinning.

When their lips parted again, Merida gasped for breath, and looked at the Goddess in something close to bewilderment. Confusion stole words from her mouth, and she swallowed but could not find sense to speak.

“ **There are two forms of sacrifice** ,” said the Goddess. “ **You may offer your soul to death and your power to me. There have been women who have chosen this before, and I have ended them painlessly. Your city will thrive, your crops will flourish, and you can go into the heaven your priests have spoken of**.”

Her delicate fingers trailed down Merida’s neck, then over the fabric that cloaked her breast. Merida felt herself tremble at the touch.

“ **Or you may offer your body to me, and pass into my realm. The women who have gone there before live there still – just them, and me, and the wild of the world to entertain us. No men to give you orders. No sickness, no death, no wear of time upon your bones. Be my consort, and be free**.”

Merida had never dreamed that there might be a choice, and her eyes went wide as the Goddess’s words sank in. A realm of just the Goddess and her followers, under only her laws and not the strictures of the land, of fathers or brothers or husbands.

The heaven that the priests promised… or the heaven that the goddess now offered. Two eternities, one of happiness, the other…

She would never have admitted that when she touched herself, she thought of the touch of other women. That while no young man had stirred any interest in her, the curve of a half-bared breast at a bathhouse could send shivers down her spine.

The other… one of a pleasure.

She released the stola from her hands, letting it pool about their feet, and the Goddess’s smile was already growing as Merida fought with the tiny buttons on her shoulders for a few seconds before ripping them away and sending them scattering across the ground. The fabric dropped, exposing one breast, and the Goddess’s eyes dipped down for one alluring second before rising to Merida’s eyes again.

“ **You must state your choice** ,” she said aloud, amusement ringing in her voice.

“Take me to your realm,” Merida whispered. The death she had expected, and some passionless promised heaven, or the touch and the eternity of the Goddess? What option could it ever be? “Your grace, take me.”

The Goddess _smiled_ , and it was the most beautiful thing that Merida had ever seen, and the most awe-inspiring because how could _she_ ever have made the Goddess smile? Then the Goddess leaned in, until her breath tickled Merida’s ear, and with the ringing, frightening, wonderful power muted from her voice whispered: “My true name is Jasmine.”

“ _Jasmine_ ,” Merida whispered, and the Goddess made a muted sound of pleasure in her throat. Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine. A name unspoken in their town, a name forbidden. On her tongue it felt like a key to some new realm, and she shivered as she managed to rip the other shoulder of her tunic free and shook it to the ground. “Jasmine. I give myself to you.”

Jasmine grasped her jaw, hard enough that it hurt, but she was kissing Merida’s mouth and Merida realised with a shiver that she _liked_ the throb of the pain against her skin. The headscarf was pulled from her hair, sending her curls springing free over her shoulders and about them again, and the air grew hot and tingling in a way that Merida had never experienced before.

But it was hard to think to question it, when her jaw was being released so that hands could slide down over her shoulders, could grip her breasts. She arched into the rough touch, whimpered as the Goddess – Jasmine, _Jasmine_ , so lovely on her tongue – tugged at one nipple with certain fingers.

Then she was released again, the air too cold after the glorious touch, and Jasmine’s hands shoved hard against her shoulders. Harder than felt possible, and Merida yelped as she was thrown backwards, the movement giddying, until her knees hit soft fabric and she was sent skidding and sprawling backwards across whisper-soft sheets onto a whisper-soft bed.

Jasmine rolled one shoulder, and the silk of her clothes fell away like a shimmering ruby cloud that drifted down around her. Heat throbbed low in Merida’s belly, and with a sense of awe she let her eyes skim down the beautiful body of the Goddess. Full breasts, soft thighs, the narrow curve of her waist and the soft give of her belly, black curls between her thighs. For this sight, she thought, and for those searing kisses, she would have been willing enough to die. It was at least a better thing to die for than the whims of some old men.

“But you have chosen life, have you not?” said Jasmine, mirth still warming her tone. She reached down, and closed one hand around Merida’s ankle. “What is your name, my new devotee?”

“Merida,” she said, struggle though it was to muster more than a whisper.

Jasmine squeezed Merida’s ankle, tight enough to almost hurt, but as she slid her hand up Merida’s thigh a golden handprint lingered on her skin. “Merida,” the Goddess said, rolling the word about her mouth. “ _Merida_. A bold name for a bold woman.”

Her hand pressed hard on Merida’s leg, but in its wake it left a streak of gold on Merida’s skin. Every hair on Merida’s body felt as if it were standing on end as the Goddess climbed onto the bed, hand reaching past Merida’s knee and onto her thigh, then grabbed at her waist with fingertips that would have left bruises if they were not painting her in gold.

Merida wondered whether there was gold on her jaw from Jasmine’s grip, on her lips and tongue from her kiss. Glancing down, she could see smears of gold across her nipples, freckles like darker specks of bronze amid the swathes.

“Tell me, Merida,” said Jasmine, voice warm and sweet as she straddled Merida’s thighs. Merida fought not to tremble, fought as well not to reach out and touch the stunning figure she had not yet been given permission to hold. “Have you ever touched a woman before?”

She thought of shyly holding Cat’s hand, and thinking of pressing a kiss to her cheek but not daring. “No, your grace,” she whispered.

Jasmine ran a hand across Merida’s throat, and perhaps it was her imagination or perhaps it was real that warmth seemed to flood from the firm sweep of her touch. “A man, then?”

“No.”

“Have you touched yourself, at least?” One finger ran down the centre of Merida’s chest, leaving a searing gold line, pressing hard down her stomach before coming to rest just above the red curls upon her mound. “Have you found pleasure in your hand, when you have wanted it?”

Such topics were so taboo; the casualness with which Jasmine spoke of them set a fresh fire in Merida’s belly, and she whimpered. Was this the world that the Goddess was offering? One were pleasure was not hidden, speaking of it allowed? “Yes,” she whispered.

“I am glad,” Jasmine said, and sounded rather like she meant it. “You know then that some use their mouths on others, instead of their hands?”

Merida was not even sure whether the blazing heat in her cheeks was arousal or shock or some sweet combination of the two. And oh yes, she had heard jokes she was not supposed to hear, seen graffiti that she was not supposed to have seen; she nodded. There was a pulsing ache between her thighs, along with the wetness gathering, and her head spun when she tried to wonder whether the Goddess would touch her, or whether she would touch herself with the Goddess’s favour. Either, _either_ would be a gift and a blessing.

Jasmine pushed Merida’s hair clear of her shoulders, sweeping it upwards on the bed, her breasts swaying above Merida’s face as she did so. Thoughtlessly, Merida parted her lips, breathing in the scent of the Goddess’s skin and wondering how it would taste. She did not sit back, though, but remained on her hands and knees above Merida, tantalisingly close but only touching where their legs pressed together. She stared into Merida’s eyes, drawing her in like the vertiginous night sky.

“I will teach you how to use your mouth to please a woman,” she said. She rested a finger on Merida’s lips, and Merida heard herself whimper. “And I will paint you in the eternal sunlight of my realm. And when you are ready, I will please you in return and take you into my lands. Do you still want to choose my realm, this path?”

“More than ever,” Merida said, determined to speak the words aloud even if they seemed _too_ loud in this strange subterranean chamber. But the Goddess looked pleased, and leaned down to kiss her mouth again, hard and possessive and ending with teeth to her lower lip, and then pulled away.

She moved around Merida then straddled across her face, and Merida gasped in surprise and desire as the Goddess was laid out above her. Slender fingers slid down into her view, parting slick dark lips beneath.

“I know they are fain to teach you what it is that you might gain pleasure from, let alone give it to others,” said Jasmine. Her voice sounded slightly muffled, either by the warmth of her thighs against the side of Merida’s face or by the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears, but it was still more than clear enough. Jasmine ran her fingers across her outermost folds. “This is your vulva, and it will give you pleasure if you treat it well. Here your entrance,” the folds parted, darker and shining in the golden light, “which no doubt you have found upon yourself. The first part is the most sensitive,” she added, running one finger around the edge, and Merida squeezed her thighs together and bit her lip against the heat and desire pooling in her. Then Jasmine’s hands slipped up as she tilted her hips, exposing the hooded nub at the apex of her folds. “And this is the clitoris, which men tend not to bother with the name of as they are too unimaginative to find a use for it. More fools they,” she said, and Merida could almost hear the smirk in her voice.

Jasmine reached down and took hold of Merida’s wrists, bringing them up to rest Merida’s hands against her thighs. Thus permitted, Merida gripped the Goddess’s flesh as hard as she dared, revelling in the rich firm feel of it. She could already barely keep her breath in check, tongue brushing past her lower lip almost of its own accord as she wondered whether Jasmine’s skin could taste as sweet as it smelled.

“As you would lick a stray trail of fruit juice from your finger,” Jasmine said, and Merida closed her eyes to let the feeling settle in that she could be _allowed_ this, could be _asked_ for this.

She swallowed against the nervous dryness of her mouth, and reached up with trembling lips and eager breath to run her tongue the length of Jasmine’s vulva. Jasmine made a soft sound – of _pleasure_ , oh, such a sound from the _Goddess’s lips_ – and Merida repeated the movement, this time a little more confidently. It tasted like salt and skin and pleasure, a hidden intimate scene made liquid to taste on her tongue, and Merida shivered as heat rolled through her. Her hands shifted on Jasmine’s thighs as she dragged in a breath that is almost damp with the scent she knew already she would come to yearn for.

“Yes,” said Jasmine, “that pressure is a good place to start. You should explore. _Ah_!” she made another of those sweet sounds as Merida let her tongue linger, fine delicate skin as smooth as sunlight to the touch and forbidden-soft. “Make a map with your tongue, that you will not need your eyes.”

Already, Merida’s eyes were closed, and she felt wetness brush against her brow and her cheeks as her tongue roved. The slick, warm give of Jasmine’s flesh beneath her tongue was overwhelming, incredible, and the more that she felt the taste on her tongue and her lips the more she found herself desiring it. Moaning, Merida ran her tongue down to Jasmine’s entrance, feeling the change in the way Jasmine’s skin moved, how it felt against her.

“Use your lips, also,” said Jasmine. For a moment Merida hesitated, uncertain quite how to do so, but then she thought of the pull of lips against lips when the Goddess had kissed her and her resolve hardened. She kissed at the soft folds of Jasmine’s skin, and was rewarded with another moan.

Heat rushed through her, trickled down her thighs. With a deep pleased murmur, Jasmine set her hands to Merida’s breasts, massaging them, touch just a little-hard but tingling with her power. Merida’s toes curled, blood pounding in her own groin, her breathing wet and muffled and desperate as she used tongue and lips both and Jasmine made noises of encouragement.

“Yes, yes – ah! You have a skill for this, Merida,” said Jasmine. She ran a hand down Merida’s side, over her ribs, and Merida wondered if that too was painting gold onto her skin. With a sigh, the Goddess began to rock her hips, just gently, the movement intoxicating against Merida’s tongue as she lapped the sweet taste of Jasmine’s pleasure from her skin. “Rise up to my clitoris now – yes, there;” Merida reached with her tongue, clenching her thighs together as they began to shake. The Goddess had not yet asked her to touch herself, after all, and seemed quite content to continue her rough stroking of Merida’s chest and shoulders, returning time and again to her breasts, her hard nipples. “You – you feel it harden, yes?”

Merida tried to make her next sound of pleasure one that could also pass for agreement. She wanted desperately to feel a touch upon her own body, her own clitoris aching, heat almost unbearable. But then Jasmine pressed _down_ upon her, letting Merida’s lips close around her clitoris, Merida’s tongue play easily at it, and her own body became a distant concern.

“Harden your tongue a little,” Jasmine urged her. “Point with its tip. Draw patterns, if you will.” She paused, moaning long and low as Merida hastily drew shapes with her tongue, any shape of which she could think, tongue moving back and forth and around the hard nub with all the desperation of a drowning man offered water.

Jasmine’s hips rocked against her tongue as she made breathless pleased sounds, thighs slick against Merida’s cheeks, hands now rubbing long firm lines down Merida’s forearms. Again, again, rolling her hips to Merida’s mouth, her clitoris to Merida’s tongue, uncaring in the volume of the sounds she made. After all the nights Merida had bitten into her bedclothes to be silent as she touched herself, it was thrilling in itself, and she let herself make desperate whining sounds as her tongue slipped, stroked along wet folds, before she managed to reach Jasmine’s clitoris again.

With increasingly ragged breaths, Jasmine panted instructions – to soften her tongue again, to harden it, to use her lips as well on Jasmine’s waiting clitoris. Jasmine’s nails dragged down her arms, like streaks of fire, then her palms eased back down again, tracing down the inside of Merida’s wrists in hot-cold swathes.

“Give me your tongue,” said Jasmine, tilting her hips forwards again. For a moment, Merida was uncertain what she meant, jaw already starting to ache, tongue wet with the taste of the Goddess. Then Jasmine gripped Merida’s elbows, nails digging in, and shifted her weight as if she were arching her back. “Inside my entrance.”

With a wash of relief at understanding, Merida eagerly plunged her tongue upwards. She could feel the flicker of muscle around her tongue, hot and intense, and she was torn between wishing she had been able to imagine this before and gladness that she had not spent years aching for this feeling as she had ached to be kissed. There was a throb of discomfort in her jaw, sticky wetness on her cheeks and the air tight in her lungs, but _oh_ she would have considered this something to pay a price for, never a price to be paid.

Jasmine moaned and shuddered, and Merida felt her heart leap as Jasmine’s hands ran down her stomach and clutched at her hips. Jasmine’s hips tilted back again, rocking harder and more deliberately this time, and Merida needed no prompting this time to work her tongue at the Goddess’s folds, her clitoris, alternately sucking and forming shapes as she gasped for her own breath.

“There,” said Jasmine, her voice tight and breathless. The very air itself seemed to shudder. “ **There.** ”

She moaned, and then cried out, her hips thrusting repeatedly against Merida’s eager tongue as she rode – _yes_ , this was what they meant by _riding_ , or at least it should have been when whispered in those dirty jokes – to joyful climax. Beats of delight rang in Jasmine’s voice as Merida kept working through her aching jaw, tasting sweet salt pleasure on her tongue and feeling an answering rush between her own thighs. Evidence, _proof_ , of Jasmine’s pleasure ran against her tongue and seeped against her lips, and she drank it greedily, clutching at Jasmine’s thighs and considering it more beautiful than any fine wine or sweet food that mortal men could make.

(Was _this_ ambrosia?, some part of her mind asked wickedly. Though perhaps it was no blasphemy at all when it was the Goddess herself who gave this gift.)

Only as Jasmine’s hips rose away did Merida relent, and then with a sound that was piteous even to her own ears. She blinked, even the low light of the room suddenly seeming blinding, then glanced down at herself to see her arms and chest painted in gold, shining in the light as she panted for breath.

And then Jasmine was kissing her again, soft and slick but unshakeable as the tide; Merida moaned as Jasmine nipped at her lower lip again and drew a line along the roof of her mouth.

“You did so well,” said Jasmine, little more than a whisper, and Merida felt a clench deep inside her at the praise. She kissed Merida one more time, tongue delving deep, hands running over her shoulders and up behind the line of her ears. Skin that she had not yet touch, Merida distantly realised, and thought with a shiver of the pale spaces still waiting on her thighs. “Yes, yes, you will do well in my realm. Answer no whims but your own and mine;” Jasmine squeezed her upper arms, and Merida reached to give her better access to the skin there. “And live freely.”

“I accept,” said Merida. Her voice sounded hoarse, and she was not sure whether it was desperation. Jasmine kissed the underside of her jaw, and she whined. “Yes, my goddess, Jasmine, your grace, _I accept._ ”

“Roll over,” Jasmine said, and Merida hastened to do so.

She felt her hair pushed aside, or at least as much as it ever could be, and then firm hands stroking from the nape of her neck down over her shoulders and back. She could picture herself being painted like one of the statues of some palace, and tried not to shake as she licked the lingering taste of Jasmine from her lips. The touches were hard, almost painful no matter how soft the bed against which she was being pressed, working methodically down her back towards the heat pooling in her.

Her hands curled tighter in the bedsheets as Jasmine’s hands followed the line of her hipbones, and she whimpered at a sweep across her tailbone. This time it truly hurt, but at Jasmine’s hands it still bought a stab of pleasure, knowing who it was that handled her so. After so many years being treated as delicate, as if her body could not bear the heat of the sun or the force of good exercise, there was a freedom in how the Goddess pushed and pressed against her, in being allowed to feel the deep pain springing to give way to the pleasure in its wake.

A whine escaped her as Jasmine’s hands skipped past her buttocks altogether, past her thighs and the heat and wetness between them. But the anticipation fluttered in her chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face to the sheets as the Goddess’s touch rolled over her feet, interspersed with the scrapes of short nails which she did not think were necessary but which somehow only made her want more desperately to be touched.

She knew, in her bones, that she should ask no favours of the Goddess. She was not sure that she could have found words anyway, not as she shivered in air that should not have felt cold, gasped for breath though she made no exertion now, felt her heartbeat pounding and her skin smouldering without a fever to even fire it. Slowly, achingly slowly, Jasmine’s hands worked up along her calves, over her knees, and Merida wondered how much more of her there could be to go.

“Please,” she found herself whispering.

As the ache in her grew, Merida tried to squeeze her thighs together but found hands, terribly strong, holding them apart. They were pushed further open, and she whimpered as the cool air rolled over her wet folds and as she felt Jasmine kneel _between_ them, holding her open, back slightly arched by the position. Never had she felt so exposed, _been_ so exposed, and the hands on the outside of her hips did not help, only deepened the want in her.

 _“Please_.”

“Do not worry,” Jasmine said. More touches, painful, running along the outside of her hips. Merida groaned, feeling the muscles running over the front of her thighs tighten as if in sympathy with her core. “You have accepted my offer, and I will take you. But you must be ready, after all.”

“I am ready,” she gasped against the sheets, damp with her breath and sweat and Jasmine’s pleasure still salty on her lips. She gripped new handfuls of them, willing her thighs not to shake, body pleading for the Goddess to touch Merida’s vulva, her clitoris, _anything_ , to let her touch herself, to free her from the deepening torment. “Please, I am ready.”

Jasmine chuckled, low and melodious, and ran her hands down the outside of Merida’s thighs. It tugged Merida slightly towards her, opening her thighs further, spreading her to the Goddess’s eyes. “So I can see. Tell me, one more time – do you want to spent your eternity in my realm? To hunt in my woods, and feast at my tables, and sleep in my quarters?”

“Yes!” it came out half a cry, and Merida could not even feel ashamed of herself for raising her voice in the manner that a lady should never do. She thought of Jasmine crying out, unfettered, and wondered if there would ever be a reason again to restrain herself. “Please, yes!”

One finger gently brushed against her entrance, and Merida almost sobbed with relief, relief that was not quite enough as Jasmine touched her with terrible tenderness. Barely penetrating her at all, Jasmine explored her skin, and Merida whimpered into the whispering fabric of the sheets as Jasmine teased at her entrance and sent tremors through her.

She managed something that might have been words, but was certainly begging, and arched and cried out as Jasmine slid one finger into her. The only clear word even she herself could make out was _more_ , and her thoughts shattered and she gave herself over to wordlessness as Jasmine acquiesced. A second finger inside her; Merida shouted, wordless and muffled, as her body tightened in welcome around the touch and seemed to unbidden press further back towards it.

“It usually takes longer,” said Jasmine, the words seeming distant even as Merida did her best to cling to them, “for women to be quite so sure of what they want.”

Her fingers pumped, stroking, thrusting, and no dirty joke or attempt at education had ever made Merida realise how it could feel. The Goddess _inside_ her, coaxing her pleasure from the inside out, hips rocking against the bed and shivers of friction running from her clitoris to the ends of her body. She knew only that she cried out for more.

Jasmine’s hand drew away again, and this time her cry was almost pained as her body tried to tighten on something that was not there. Emptiness throbbed between her thighs, and Merida pushed against the bed with her hands, aching, heavy body struggling to answer to her.

But then Jasmine’s hands were on her thighs, pushing upwards again. “Yes,” said Jasmine. “That is it. On your knees for me.”

Gasping, breasts swaying, Merida fought herself to do so. Her stomach shook, her arms quaked, though it was a position she would usually find no difficulty at all. She blinked sweat from her eyes and risked a glance back, beyond her own strange golden skin, to see Jasmine kneeling behind her with shining eyes and parted lips. Jasmine positioned herself with one knee either side of Merida’s leg, then tugged on her hips so that Merida was abruptly pulled back against her.

Merida’s head dropped as she felt herself pressed against Jasmine’s thigh, her knees threatening to give way from beneath her as Jasmine’s hands on her hips steered her into place. She moaned again at the returned contact, the reignited heat beneath her skin.

“ **Show me**.”

One of Jasmine’s hands tightened in her hair, and Merida felt herself pulled up again, gasping as her back arched and she was pressed more firmly into Jasmine’s thigh. Hard pressure on her hip guided her as she rolled her hips, searching for the angle, for the movement, so used to keeping her body still as her hand did it worked. There was something strangely primal about it, animalistically free, as she found a pleasing rhythm and set about chasing it with movements of her hips.

“ **Yes**.” The Goddess’s voice seemed to fill her, ringing in her bones, drowning out the desperate sounds that she knew she was making and could no longer care for. “ **Show me. Show me that you want this. Release yourself into my realm**.”

Merida felt tears in her eyes as her body screamed for release, shoulders burning, desperately rutting against Jasmine’s thigh as with one hand the Goddess guided her, with the other kept her hair pulled back just to the edge of pain with its tightness. Words escaped her, fled, her cares following them to leave her only with the throbbing raw need in her belly as she rolled in wet, moaning waves.

The room blurred, fell away, her movements become desperate as she cried out to Jasmine, over and over, body jerking as heat began to crash through. Jasmine tugged on her hair again, stinging on her scalp, and Merida screamed in blind pleasure as the tightness in her body exploded out, like newness stringing out along each nerve, like being remade from the inside out. Never had she felt like this, not at her own touch, not even imagining the touch of others, but beneath the Goddess’s touch she shimmered away like that ruby fabric, and felt herself coming back together like a shadow seeping up from the ground.

Tears were dripping from her face, whimpers from her lips. She collapsed to the bed, and was not sure quite how Jasmine moved her onto her back but knew that she was there, that the room was shimmering around her with a sound like crystal and mountain heights. Merida gasped as Jasmine’s hands ran down the vee of her hips, smooth on sweat-damp skin, and she _felt_ the gold seal around her like new skin falling over her.

Jasmine leaned over her, impossibly beautiful, the light around her becoming brighter and brighter. She cupped Merida’s cheek with a suddenly gentle hand, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“ **Well done** ,” Jasmine breathed. “ **Now, you are mine**.”

She leaned in for one more kiss, and Merida pushed up onto one elbow to accept it willingly. She could smell sea air and forest’s breath, could hear the shore and the open air as Jasmine’s lips explored hers. It was like she was in two places at once, but it was not frightening; she felt more alive than she ever had before, in the arms of the Goddess whom she had thought would be her death.

“I am yours,” said Merida, eagerly. A future awaited, a wide open and glorious one, so close that she could see it from the corners of her vision. Closing her eyes, she let herself fall into the Goddess’s arms, and into the unending realm awaiting her.


End file.
